


Night Terror

by mylordshesacactus



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Forced Kiss, Rape/Non-con Elements, Seven is hella unstable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:12:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylordshesacactus/pseuds/mylordshesacactus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not here to hurt Chuchi. Not tonight. She's just...sending a message.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Terror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ahzoka](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ahzoka).



> My contribution to the small but adorable Riyosoka fandom. You're uh, welcome, guys. I guess.

Riyo Chuchi was sleeping.

She looked exhausted; there'd been flooding on Pantora recently, and the Imperial Senate's views on funding anything that didn't include the word “military” were well-known. The little Senator was curled on her side, one arm tucked under a pillow, and her brow was furrowed in her sleep. A datapad's low-battery light blinked silently in the center of the bed; the poor thing must have fallen asleep working on it.

Gloved fingers tucked a few strands of lavender hair out of Chuchi's face before tracing the sunshine-yellow double-crescent on her cheek. The touch was light, very nearly tender.

She was cute. You had to give Tano credit for that.

Cute, but not terribly entertaining like _this_. The Seventh Sister raised a hand, waving her fingers. The nudge in the Force was almost lazy; it pushed the sleep from Riyo's consciousness just enough to make her stir, and her own mind did the rest. Much less... _crass_ than causing her to jolt awake suddenly. You had to have some style about these things.

Riyo yawned, gave a tired whimper, and rolled over onto her other side without opening her eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep.

Seven smiled behind a closed mask.

“Pleasant dreams?”

She sat back calmly and crossed her ankles. Chuchi's golden eyes flew open in shock and she jerked away with a strangled gasp, so fast that she cracked her skull on the ornamental headboard.

“ _Ow_ —Who are you?” Riyo demanded. Her fingers slid beneath her pillow, subtly searching for the holdout blaster that had been tucked between the mattress and bedframe and which Seven had placed in the drawer of a desk across the room when she first entered. It wouldn't do to have weapons fire during this little visit. Someone might get _hurt_.

Seven moved to the foot of the Senator's bed, leaning against a bedpost as she watched Chuchi slowly realize her blaster was missing. “Is that really important right now?”

It was always fun watching targets react to the voice modulator. Especially the pretty ones. They would never admit it put them on edge, of course, but they never were very good at hiding it. That was good. She _liked_ them off-balance.

She felt a certain amount of satisfaction that Chuchi didn't resort to blustering or begging or threats like some of the politicians she'd had the opportunity to play with. There was _spirit_ in the little Pantoran. She just kept a wary eye on the intruder and slipped carefully out of bed. _Moving slowly so she won't be seen as a threat,_ Seven noted. Smart. Deluded, but in a mildly charming way.

She stood, and her prey froze.

“I'll scream,” Riyo warned her.

Seven let herself chuckle at that, and enjoyed the way Chuchi's bare arms prickled at the sound.

“Oh, please do,” she purred. “But you should really save that for your wife.” A thought made her laugh. “While you still can.”

Riyo Chuchi was _good_. She would have to be, to have kept a marriage like hers secret this long. She didn't even blink. But Seven still felt her mental stutter in the Force, and she doubted it had anything to do with the chill from the air processors.

 _Pantorans_. So used to a frozen wasteland that even with the temperature set as low as the Senate apartments would allow the poor thing was still too warm, if that half-sheer slip of a nightgown was any indication. Well, there would certainly be no complaints...

“So.” Seven's grin was more a baring of teeth; hidden behind a mask, and yet Riyo's breath still caught. “Tell me. Does she bite?”

Riyo Chuchi was good, but not good enough; she flushed at that, a dramatic shift toward indigo visible even in the dark. Still, she tried to stand tall—easier said than done, for someone of her stature.

“If you're going to kill me,” she said in an endearing imitation of bravery, “Then you may as well get it over with.”

Seven _tsk_ ed in disapproval, smirking as she brought her mask up. “Why would I want to kill a pretty thing like you?” She took another casual step forward; Riyo lifted her chin rather than retreat, so Seven took the opportunity to close the gap and run a delicate finger along her jaw. “You haven't done something _wrong_ , have you?”

“What do you want?” Riyo asked. She was glaring, voice cold and hard; and shaking, which rather ruined the effect.

Seven passed her thumb over Riyo's lips. “And here I thought we were just having a friendly little talk.”

Riyo's eyes narrowed; but if she was expecting the Seventh Sister to blink first, she would be sorely disappointed. After a long pause in which the only change was that Seven's smirk widened, Riyo finally took half a step back and glanced to the side.

Seven pressed her victory.

“You know,” she said, taking a step forward. Riyo took a much larger one back, composure finally cracking as her gaze darted around like a trapped nuna, searching for an escape route that wasn't there. “ _Senator Chuchi_. A woman in your position really ought to take her security arrangements more seriously.”

“I—I don't know what you're talking about.”

Seven rolled her eyes, irritated at being interrupted. “ _Of course_ you don't.” She moved in again. “Rogue traitors like Ahsoka Tano make a lot of enemies. Powerful enemies.” Riyo stumbled, reflexively flinching at the transition from carpet to cold enamel with bare feet as she took another step backwards. “Enemies who have, let's say, a talent for spotting and exploiting vulnerabilities. Who know weakness when they see it...”

Riyo's back hit the corner.

Seven smiled.

“And here you are. All alone.” She drew her knuckles gently down Riyo's cheek, glanced along what little the nightgown left to her imagination. The flowing bit of satin didn't have sleeves so much as silky ties holding it together; she ran one trailing end between her fingers, and a soft brush was enough to slide the fastening off a pale blue shoulder. “Anything could happen.”

Chuchi swallowed. “You have no evidence for any of your senseless claims,” she said. Seven drew the backs of her fingernails along her captive's arm and pretended not to notice the panic button she was inching toward, built into the decorative molding. “I must insist you leave immediately, or you will be taken into custody and—”

“I haven't killed your guards,” Seven mused. She looked up from her open admiration of Ahsoka's taste with a playful smile. “ _Yet_.”

There was a pause. Stiff, lip curling slightly at the indignation of being caught, Riyo lowered her hand back to her side.

“The Imperial Senate will not stand for this.” Her voice shook as Seven's fingers ran through her hair. “As a duly appointed representative of the Emperor, I—”

“Oh, is _that_ what you are!” Seven let herself laugh softly. She let the lock of hair she was toying with slip from her fingers, then captured it again and began braiding it idly. “Come now, Senator,” she said with exaggerated patience. “You're a smart girl. You _know_ your job is to stand in the Senate building and look pretty for the galaxy, so that your miserable, frozen little excuse for a homeworld feels like the Empire might spare it a second thought one day.” Satisfied with her loose braid, she smiled pleasantly and reached behind her back. “And if you, say, had an accident...?”

The lightsaber blade hissed to life between them, burning with deadly promise.

“They'd have someone else in that pod by tomorrow.”

Seven gave a low hum of pleasure as—oh, _finally_ —Riyo's face transformed from nervousness to terror. Chuchi tried to press further into the corner as the scarlet blade came closer to her face and hovered there while she stared at it, not daring to breathe. And then it _flicked_ —

And disappeared, leaving behind the faint smell of singed hair and a lavender braid between Seven's fingers. She knotted the loose ends while Riyo cringed, and by the time those big gold eyes opened tentatively the lock of hair had been tucked away with a smirk.

A small gift for Ahsoka, the next time they met. The imagination was the most effective tool of torture in the galaxy with the right encouragement.

“Of course,” she said with a careless wave of the hand, as if there had been no interruption. “You can _try_ to report this little conversation. I'm sure _someone_ would be willing to listen to you if you batted your eyelashes enough." She gave Chuchi a sly smile. "But it would come down to your word against mine and I'm afraid I'm considered much more trustworthy. After all, _I'm_ not the one fucking a Jedi on the side.” A theatrical sigh. “More's the pity.”

Riyo didn't bother denying it again; her shoulders tightened, and she drew herself up. This time she wasn't faking.

Seven couldn't have been more pleased. _Impressive, Tano. Very impressive_. So the sweet little diplomat had fangs after all. Such a shame she wouldn't have time to test them properly tonight.

“I won't help you capture her,” Riyo said boldly, looking Seven in the eyes. “So make whatever threats you like, but you may as well not bother.”

“Oh, I know.” She caught Chuchi's chin again. “But you're going to pass along a message for me.”

Riyo lifted her head, opening her mouth to say something defiant. Seven's outstretched fingers twitched.

It wasn't a grab with the Force so much as a sharp shove from behind, and Riyo lurched into her chest because there was nowhere else for her to go. She didn't protest the trick, because Seven had already jerked her head back to kiss her. Hard.

A muffled, indignant yell was accompanied by a blow to the side of Seven's helmet—or would have been, if she hadn't sensed it coming lightyears away and snapped her hand up lazily to grab Chuchi's wrist in a bruising grip. Her tongue across Riyo's lips was accompanied with a warning squeeze in the Force around her windpipe, and after a moment she stopped fighting.

Let it never be said that Riyo Chuchi wasn't _smart_.

Seven hummed her approval, then tightened her grip on Riyo's jaw and pulled her in deeper. She took her time; a long, slow, lingering claim that made it clear she intended to enjoy every moment of this. She wasn't here to _hurt_ Chuchi; not tonight, at least. But—she flicked her tongue teasingly across the roof of Riyo's mouth, and laughed low in her throat at the delicious shudder it caused—she fully intended to give Ahsoka's wife something to tell her about.

When she finally drew back, it was with a satisfied hum and one self-indulgent tug of teeth on Riyo's lower lip.

She'd planned to move to her new plaything's throat, to leave a little parting gift so she wouldn't be forgotten too easily. The bruising would be lovely against that unmarked skin, and if she would _insist_ on being uncooperative... But no, she decided as she looked Riyo over smugly. This way Tano would have no choice but to acknowledge that Seven had been here, that Jedi or not she had been unable to keep an Inquisitor from bringing the unguarded love of her life entirely within their power, and yet Seven had deliberately chosen not to harm her.

This time.

Seven released Riyo without warning, and she stumbled back into the corner with a dull thud. She was breathing shallowly, her fear permeating the Force, and there were just the hint of tears forming in her eyes.

Seven smiled and tapped her affectionately on the nose.

“Sleep well, Senator.”


End file.
